A Slow, Gradual Forever

28 April 2020

COVID-19 Diary, Day 46.

Last night we had a dream where thunder rolled constant growing louder and louder. It was not an overlapping multiple thunder claps rising and receding, it was a single one in an ever increasing crescendo. It was a slow, gradual forever before it reached the breaking point with an explosion that shook the ground. We knew what it was, we knew what was coming, and we chose not to watch it.

In the morning when the light had come and smoke cleared the air, we went. We walked to the crater where the asteroid lay and climbed through the openings in the stony rim to marvel at size of it. And standing there, in it's still radiating heat, we remembered. We've stood here before, within the crater.

Firstcup Me is still interpreting the message of this dream. She has, however, already noted that at no point in this dream did we fear while similar dreams from our youth were drenched in it. She believes this is important.

Another thing that has come to mind this morning is this. Resilient isn't the same as unbreakable. We are resilient, but we've broken before. We could break again. But we know that what is broken can be made whole again. We can fill our cracks with gold and colored glass and make of ourselves new and wonderous works of art and love.